Blue Monday
by Knightmaremist
Summary: Kurt Nightcrawler happens upon another mutant while inside the church and they meet a fate of misfortune.
1. Chapter 1

"Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute, und vergib und unsere Schuld, wie auch wir vergeben unseren Schuldigern; und führe uns nicht in Versuchung sondern bewahre uns vor dem Bösen..." his voice softly spoke - the phantom whispering of a force unseen.  
  
The crisp autumn breeze briskly blew open the abandoned cathedral's doors, carrying with it a trail of wayward brilliantly colored leaves, as they drifted aimlessly up the aisle toward the looming crucifix at the alter, just the hint of a crystal glint in their undertone, mirrored in the stained glass windows. The candles in the corner flickered. A momentary shadow eclipsed their soft light. The voice of the wind spoke of something new afoot, carelessly whistling the promise of sweet anticipation. The rustling leaves echoed its hopeful murmur. There was change on the way - change in the very air that filtered through the old stone edifice.   
  
Kurt was tired. He could not remember the last time he'd actually slept peacefully. He had been on the run ever since Striker and his team attempted to abduct the blue mutant, for whatever purpose they had in mind. Kurt knew it couldn't be anything noble. Refugee behavior was easy for a mutant such as Kurt, the "Amazing Nightcrawler," as the Munich Circus had so boldly proclaimed time and again, for Kurt was a teleporter. He could literally move faster across the timespace continuum using a self-secreted dark mist that catapulted him to and from his destination at the speed of light. Moreover, when in transient form, Kurt could vaporize and slink underneath doors, appear and disappear in a gust of blinding smoke. There was a drawback, though. He could teleport only to places he was able to see prospectively. He felt lucky to have landed here in the old church, for a haven it truly was in more ways than one. He felt protected… most days anyway.  
  
The blue mutant remained hidden in the shadows inside the rafters - a veritable loft he'd created for himself. Nightcrawler lurked, perched upon his haunches, his wispy serpent's tail at attention, like an antenna behind his sturdy shoulders. His yellow snake eyes told an emotional tale of woe even inside his vacant expression as he focused all sights on the figure hovering outside the now open door. Kurt's bare blue feet, like talons almost, gripped the wooden beam beneath; he gazed intently upon an hourglass shape scampering inside, gingerly. It was female. There was overwhelming latency in her step. Perhaps she could sense his presence.  
  
There was nothing particularly alarming about her, but Kurt figured he should embark upon his usual routine. Though faith was a definite part of his creed, he was finding it difficult to trust anyone these days, especially considering the Striker incident.  
  
She stepped into the single ray of light cast down through a crack in one of the stained glass window panes. She was cloaked in dark purple, her hood pulled over her eyes, but her crimson lips and fair skin were visible, as well as a few tendrils of soft lilac hair. Kurt gasped. Even underneath the cloak her radiant beauty seemed to emanate and shine right into his soul.   
  
Just what had attracted her to the disheveled old building in the first place? 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter: 2/3  
  
  
  
"Get out!" came a booming voice from above, no - around the ceiling in the rafters. She was instantly startled. She gasped, clutching her chest, her gaping mouth revealing a perfect set of ivory teeth inside those crimson full lips. "Get out!" the raspy agitated male's voice repeated harshly. He had a heavy German accent.  
  
"I can't!" she shouted back, quite fearful. She glanced quickly around the perimeter of the building. There was no one in sight. The voice seemed to be traveling right past her. Why could she not see the man? How odd. "I can't get out!" she repeated. "I'm being chased," she added with a sob, afraid that this last resort might be worse than the fate following her.  
  
There was utter silence, then finally a disgusted sigh. "Who is chasing you?" he bellowed, still invisible. It made her very uneasy.   
  
"Some man from the government," she replied sadly to the wind, "a bunch of government agents." She pushed her hood off her face and head. Kurt again gasped softly. This woman was the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Her eyes were silver - big, round and wide. Her purple hair was parted in the middle. Her skin was pale and flawless. He could resist no longer. He had to reveal himself.  
  
She shrieked, startled, as she stole first glimpse of the blue mutant up high before her, dangling from the rafters. Where had he been before? "You're a mutant too," she exclaimed gratefully, now less fearful. "Thank God for that."  
  
"So you are then?" he inquired, still hanging freely by his feet. The girl nodded solemnly. "What is your name?" he ventured.  
  
"You first," she replied somewhat defensively, leering up at his spectacular presence.  
  
"I asked you first," he coaxed, now swinging gently as he dangled.   
  
She rolled her eyes and emitted a soft giggle. "You're going to be an interesting sort to harbor this fugitive," she laughed nervously. "I'm Veronica."  
  
Kurt chuckled with satisfaction and growing reverence. "Ah yes, like the one who wiped the face of the Lord when he carried the cross."  
  
"Yes," Veronica affirmed. "Ironic you should mention that."  
  
"How so, because we are in a church?" the blue man queried. He vanished for a second in a cloud of indigo smoke, then reappeared not ten feet from her upon the ground. She squealed, astonished.  
  
"How do you do that?" she asked candidly.  
  
"It is my mutation, Veronica. I teleport," he bragged with sweet charm. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kurt Wagner, the Amazing Nightcrawler from the Munich Circus." He took a bow, grandstanding his identity. He was also quite smitten already.   
  
"Nice to meet you, Kurt," Veronica greeted shyly. Her voice was so melodious, like some fairy's from a fantasy book.   
  
"Likewise, um… Ronni," he teased sweetly, liking this nickname he'd chosen for her. "So what else do you call yourself? Do you also have a special name?" He moved slowly as he approached her. He certainly didn't want to scare her away.  
  
"I call myself Halo," Ronni replied confidently. "My mutation… is why what you said before is so ironic," she chortled cryptically. Kurt nodded for her to continue. She smiled. Noticing a small stab wound upon the blue man's bare right shoulder, she pointed to it. "Allow me?" she broached, shortening their distance as she moved forward.  
  
She reached out a gentle hand to touch the man's wound and he backed away slightly, wincing.  
  
"This won't hurt," she assured. With that, she touched him and Kurt instantly felt a small tingling wave enter his body where he'd been stabbed. It was pure energy running through him. He gasped, looking into her eyes as she seemingly felt no discomfort whatsoever by exerting her precious power. She released her hand, and the wound was gone. She smiled wider in deep satisfaction. "That is why those men are looking for me. They wanted me to be part of an experiment on mutants. Any injuries they sustained, I would heal. But, I disagreed with their motive and means. It was cruel, so I ran away," she explained regretfully.  
  
"That is quite sad, especially sad because a beautiful face like yours should never frown," he cooed, realizing that she may have been the answer to his tortured prayers.   
  
So close to him now, Veronica spotted the intricate markings upon the man's upper torso. He was clothed from only the waist down and his bright yellow pinstripe circus pants were quite a contrast to his dark blue frame. He was also barefoot. He looked cold; he was shivering a bit. "What are those?" she asked curiously.  
  
"They are Angelic Script, the language passed on from the Archangel Gabriel," Kurt answered in a soft hissing whisper.   
  
"Where did you get them?" Ronni continued, quite interested. She reached out again to feel his skin. It was smooth, a bit chilled. Perhaps his body temperature was closer to an amphibian's. As she graced her delicate fingernails across his shoulder he shivered again, as though being tickled. "Something wrong?" Ronni asked.  
  
"No my dear lady, nothing. Just that most people do not wish to touch me," he leveled sadly.  
  
"I don't understand why not. These markings are beautiful. You put them on your body?" she inquired again.  
  
He nodded. "I did… one for every sin. That is why there are so many."   
  
"Oh," Veronica exclaimed empathetically. "Have a lot to atone for? I can relate." She was about to remove her hand but he reached up and pressed it closer against his skin. They smiled at each other, abashed for a moment. She felt tingles and shivers herself as he stroked her knuckles with his finger.  
  
"Your skin is soft, and normal looking," he deadpanned, his yellow eyes probing, noninvasive, through her.  
  
"Your skin is beautiful too," she murmured, "just different is all."  
  
Kurt sighed deeply. "If only the rest of the world felt that way," he stated wishfully. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter: 3/3  
  
Kurt and Veronica sat in the old church and talked for hours, feeling safe with each other. When they'd ventured to discuss in further detail their near misfortunes with particular mutant-haters, they discovered something quite curious.  
  
"What was the name of the man who was chasing you?" Kurt asked as he sat beside her and nudged her shoulder, for she'd been looking somewhat vacant.  
  
"William Striker," Ronni replied suspiciously.   
  
Kurt sighed deeply. "I have met this Striker also. He was after me for some reason I don't know."  
  
"Well, he does government experiments with mutants. I guess he wanted us for his own sick cause," Veronica admonished sadly.  
  
Kurt wanted to say something to comfort her. He wanted to take a chance and open up to this woman, having faith that she would accept and understand him. But sadly, the fates were against them on this day, for just then the church doors blew open yet again, and there stood the austere William Striker, surrounded by an entourage of official-looking men.  
  
"Glad we found ya, purple-haired woman," Striker hissed with his Southern drawl. "Hanging out with the old Blue Boy I see," he added with a sneer. "Get 'em boys. Don't leave a mess," he threw out with cavalier authority.   
  
As the men filed in from behind Striker, Kurt moved to shield Veronica, but she pushed him away. "Not now," she warned. Kurt simply shook his head and wrapped her in his embrace. Within a split second, they'd vanished in a misty blue fog and resurfaced upon the rafters above.   
  
"This man won't get us. I'll keep you safe," Kurt assured her, still holding her close as they gazed down upon the baffled group of men who stopped suddenly, toppling over one another like dominoes.   
  
"Where did they go?" asked one of the stupid men.  
  
"Up there!" another pointed, spotting the two mutants. "Striker, aim and fire!"  
  
Striker cocked his rifle and fired rapidly. Kurt caught glimpse of the flare headed for them and he again teleported Ronni to a safer distance inside the church. But alas, Striker had expected this, it seemed, for the flare contained a noxious gas. It landed on the ground, having bounced off the rafters. It released its poison and Kurt was soon asleep on the ground, having fallen from Ronni in a motionless heap. Veronica gasped loudly in protest as she knelt beside him. Why was Kurt the only one affected?  
  
"It's a chemical designed to disable mutants, my dear. All my men are safe," Striker called out haughtily as though he'd read her mind.  
  
"Then why isn't she affected?" another man asked.  
  
Veronica then stood slowly with Kurt still limp and lifeless at her feet. Her eyes were filled with wrath and an unprecedented coldness. "Because, my power comes from HIM!" she bellowed, gesturing toward the crucifix upon the altar, "not chromosomes."  
  
Striker then approached her like the slinking serpent he was. "It's too bad your chromosomes fell short in the IQ department too," he taunted evilly. Before Ronni could react she felt someone behind her and the needle sink into the back of her neck. She fell limply upon Kurt.  
  
"Clean this mess up," Striker dictated nonchalantly. "I have somethin' special in mind, particularly for the blue one. When we're finished, we'll return them here and they won't remember a dang thing. Make sure they stay separated too."  
  
One of the men chuckled to another as they scooped the sleeping bodies from the floor. "Guess even if God hears all prayers, sometimes he's gotta say no, eh?" 


End file.
